


Sweet Release - Part One

by ladydragon76



Series: Sweet Release [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: KINK: BDSM, KINK: D/s, KINK: bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 19:02:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1789807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> Jazz and Blue have an arrangement, but now that he’s getting serious with Prowl, things will need to be adjusted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Release - Part One

**Author's Note:**

> **‘Verse:** G1  
>  **Series:** None  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Characters:** Bluestreak/Jazz/Prowl  
>  **Warnings:** Sticky  
>  **Notes:** Commission for Boots, who wanted some truly healthy BDSM with Dom!Bluestreak. Thank you, Boots! And Happy Birthday! Dialogue heavy, but I hope y’all enjoy it!

Jazz’s vents were finally starting to slow and return to a more normal rate. Bluestreak’s hand on his helm was a rhythmic, gentle caress, and the world was starting to come back into focus as well. They were on Bluestreak’s floor, just next to his berth, and with his helm in his master’s lap, Jazz knew even the plushest berth wouldn’t have been more comfortable or comforting. He nuzzled the red thigh under his cheek and began a soft, rumbling purr.

Bluestreak’s field drew in just a little at the signal, easing them both a little more into the regular evening. And it was evening now, Jazz noted, becoming increasingly aware. There was music playing, Earth stuff still, but instead of the fast beat and loud scream of electric guitars, this was a soft saxophone and crooning vocals.

Jazz, Jazz smiled, one of his favorites. He must’ve been pretty deep in if Bluestreak had chosen this for him to come back to.

Content and in no hurry, Jazz stayed where he was through two more songs, then began moving his limbs on the third. At first it was just small motions, a flexing of his fingers, an extension of his foot, but then growing through the fourth and fifth songs until he was pulled into a full-body stretch complete with creaking cables and a soft grunt as he relaxed again.

Bluestreak’s hand didn’t stopped petting him through all the wiggling, but his field drew in, and Jazz followed the example. He pushed up from the floor, finally breaking contact, but feeling a million times better than he had earlier. He felt sane and calm, and gave Bluestreak a smile before lifting his chin.

Bluestreak smiled back, fingers unclasping the collar with easy, practiced touches. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” Jazz answered, purring again as Bluestreak massaged the cables of his throat, soothing away the touch of the collar. It was comfortable and never left marks, but the feeling lingered in a way that Jazz found distracting. When Bluestreak pulled his hand away, Jazz gave his neck a good rub himself. “Went deep, huh? You ok?”

“Yeah, like, _really_ deep. You were singing for a while even after I stopped.” Bluestreak telegraphed each move as he rose, something Jazz appreciated as much as how slow he walked to get the energon. They’d been at this a long time, and easing Jazz back into his own head was only part of it. Moving too fast, even after the collar came off, would leave Jazz feeling jarred and alone, abandoned, even though he could completely reason out why Bluestreak would hurry to get energon, then hurry back. It’d taken him a while to confess that, but once he had, Bluestreak had adjusted. He was the best Jazz had ever been with.

“Here ya go,” Bluestreak said, holding out a cube as he sat down next to Jazz, his doorwings tucking in against his back. “Drink it slow, ok? I can still hear your systems.” He took a sip of his own cube, pressing his shoulder to Jazz’s.

“Thanks, Blue.” Jazz sipped at the energon and leaned against Bluestreak a little more, both of them getting comfortable. “I’m feeling pretty good though. Honest.” He took another drink. “Do wanna talk ta ya though.”

“Sure thing.” Baby blue optics met Jazz’s, Bluestreak’s face open and interested. “You know you can always talk to me, Jazz. About anything. You look excited too, so it must be good.”

Jazz caught himself smiling, affection and gratitude filling his energy field. “Heh. Yeah, it’s all good. Remember back about a year ago, how I told ya that things between us might have ta change down the road some? Well, I’m thinking we might have ta end our sessions soon. Me an’ Prowl are gettin’ pretty serious, and I really think I wanna be just his.”

Bluestreak’s optics lit, and a smile bloomed across his face. “Oh wow! Jazz, that’s great! Congratulations!” He twisted to the side, doorwings popping up on his back as soon as they were clear. “I’m really happy for you both, that’s so awesome. I mean, I know that there are other sets of lovers all over the place, but you and Prowl are important to me, ya know? I’m so excited things are working out so good!”

Chuckling, Jazz beamed back, turning a little himself to better face Bluestreak. “I still needa talk ta Prowl. I mean, he knows about us playin’ together and all, but he needs ta know exactly what we do here too, and I think if we stopped and he knew it, then he might feel obligated, and I don’t want that. I wanna be sure he’s ready for that level of commitment too. Goin’ exclusive’s kinda a big deal.”

“Oh no, definitely not, better for sure to put it to him first. I appreciate the heads-up though. I’ll miss this, of course, I mean, geez, who wouldn’t, right? But- Oh wait. I shouldn’t have said that, huh?” Bluestreak frowned for a minute. “Well, you know I’m not trying to run any guilt games on you, right? I mean, I’d hate for-”

Jazz laughed and shook his helm. “No, I gotcha, Blue. I’ll miss it too, once it’s done. Ya’ve been just the best, and ta be honest, there’s a big part of me a little scared we won’t be as close of friends without it, but I think we’ll manage.”

“Oh heck yeah, we will!” Bluestreak grinned. “Besides, no one else is a challenge in _Bump ‘n’ Jump_. Well, except for Sunstreaker, but he gets really impatient waiting for his turn, and I’m not sure how he’s doing it, but I think Smokescreen cheats, so I don’t like playing against him.” He snickered and reached out to poke Jazz in the knee. “We’ll be good friends no matter what. I’m not worried. Whatever you need to do is fine with me, so how about we leave the asking for any sessions to you for now? Then if you want to, you can, and if you don’t, then you don’t. At least until you and Prowl are both ready to be exclusive, that is.”

Jazz nodded. “Sounds perfect.” He finished his energon, suddenly really wanting to see Prowl. “Thanks, Blue. For tonight and everything else.”

Bluestreak’s cheeks went a little pink. “Thank you, too. You know this isn’t a one-way thing.”

Leaning forward, Jazz hugged Bluestreak and gave him a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek. “I know, but thanks just the same. I’ll keep ya posted on how things go with Prowl.” He brought his visor back down over his optics as he pulled back and stood up.

“Ok,” Bluestreak said, letting Jazz go, then standing with him to walk him to the door. “Tell him I said hi when you see him.”

Jazz shot him a playful salute, then sauntered down the hall. Prowl should just about be getting off his shift and be in need of some energon himself.

~ | ~

Prowl stepped back to let Jazz into his quarters, smiling as he did. “My apologies for having to put off our date night half the week.”

“No problem, babe. ‘Cons don’t wait on our romance.” Jazz smiled brightly, a little bounce in his step as he crossed to the small table and set of chairs Prowl had in his room.

“Much to my regret.” Prowl took the seat opposite Jazz, and gratefully accepted the offered cube of energon. “I am sorry we had to put off the talk you wanted to have. Barring an attack, the evening is ours tonight.”

Jazz’s smile shifted to something that promised Prowl a lack of recharge. “It’s ok. Gave me a few days ta work out what all I wanted ta say.”

Prowl nodded, then sipped at his energon. His spark was about to trip over itself it was pulsing so fast due to his nervousness, but Jazz didn’t look like he was about to end their relationship. He mentally chastised himself for that thought. His relationship with Jazz was nothing at all like his previous attempts at a romance had been. It was unfair and illogical that he assume the worst before Jazz even had the chance to speak. “Well, now that we have time, what did you wish to discuss?”

“Us,” Jazz replied. He rocked his cube between his hands, betraying his own nervousness. “Been thinkin’ I want more.”

“More?” Prowl glanced around his quarters, not feeling particularly opposed to sharing, but he would need to give that some thought.

Jazz chuckled, following his gaze. “Not quite that much. Not just yet anyways. I thought about maybe it bein’ time for us to be a two mech exclusive deal.”

Prowl tipped his helm, smiling as Jazz ducked his head a little and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I know, I’m the only one of us sharin’ berths with anyone else right now,” Jazz said, “but we never talked about neither one of us _not_ seein’ others anymore. I think I’d like it though. Just us.”

“I have no objection, but what about Bluestreak?” Prowl asked. “How will he take the news?”

Jazz’s bright smile returned. “Blue’s happy for us. Said so himself. We really are just friends. Never was more than a mutually beneficial arrangement. He and I ain’t compatible like that.” The smile softened some. “Not like I think you and me are.”

Prowl’s face heated and his spark fluttered a bit. He hid the reaction behind a sip of energon, then said, “Very well. Why do I feel there is more to this though?”

“Cuz there is.” Jazz sipped at his energon too, then leaned forward, hand out toward Prowl.

Nervousness returned with a vengeance, but Prowl laid his hand in Jazz’s.

“I’m gonna try ta explain this the best I can, but stick with me, cuz I might trip up a bit. Ok?” Jazz waited for Prowl’s nod, then continued, “Ya see, I like the interfacin’ we do. It’s good. _Real_ good, pretty much some of the best I’ve ever had, and I think a big part of that is how we feel about each other, but me and Blue do something a bit different, and I’d like ta try it with you too.”

“Go on,” Prowl said, hand tightening on Jazz’s just a little. His spark was pulsing harder again, lines chilled. Was he not doing enough? Was he not doing something right? He _wanted_ to please Jazz in the berth, but he certainly had far less experience at it than Jazz. Something he was all too aware of, and despite Jazz saying he enjoyed their interfacing, Prowl knew he simply hadn’t had many lovers to explore much with. The only meaningful relationship -what he’d thought had been meaningful- had been disastrous before the mech had left him.

Jazz chuckled and squeezed Prowl’s hand back. “Relax, babe. I can see ya startin’ ta worry, and I promise, this is all good stuff. What me and Blue do, it kinda helps keep me balanced.” He shrugged, visor dimming a little. “Ya know all I gotta do. Blue helps me sorta… deal with it. I can live without playin’ like that though.”

“I could use some details,” Prowl said. “However, if this is something you enjoy and desire, then I’m willing to try.”

“Mostly it’s just bondage, some canin’. He helps me by tearing me down, sayin’ all the things I tell myself about the job.” Jazz shrugged a little. “Beats the lies out of me.” He chuckled, and Prowl quickly rearranged his expression to something more neutral. “He doesn’t hurt me, babe. Not more’n I want him to.”

Prowl finished his energon, and then contemplated the bottom of the cube for a moment. “This is something you want?”

“Yeah.”

“And you enjoy it?”

“Lots.”

Prowl scowled, then dispersed the cube as he looked back up at Jazz. “It’s never become… abusive?”

“No. Not even once. Blue knows what he’s doin’, I know what I’m doin’, and everything is arranged ahead of time. If it goes pear-shaped for either of us, we can stop. I can stop him, and he can stop me. Full on consensual, love,” Jazz explained. “Only way I want it, and really, that’s the only way it can be.”

“I don’t have the best history of relationships, Jazz, and I know that’s not the only way it can be.” Prowl reached his other hand over, cupping Jazz’s between both of his own. “I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

“It’s not about pain or hurtin’ me,” Jazz said, setting aside his energon to lay his other hand over both of Prowl’s. “It ain’t about you tryin’ ta control me beyond the session, or abuse at all.

“I know what ya been through, babe, but this ain’t that. I ain’t askin’ ya ta rule my life, tell me when ta recharge or refuel. _If_ ya’re willin’ ta play a bit, tie me up, push a little verbally, then that’s great. I trust ya. I trust ya completely, or I wouldn’t even bring it up.”

Prowl cycled his vents, optics dropping to their hands. Trust. Yes, he did trust Jazz. Jazz was not his past. Jazz had never, not once, coerced or manipulated him. He didn’t belittle him or try to change him. When he bounced into Prowl’s office with a cube and flirted and teased to get Prowl to refuel and recharge it was because of genuine care and concern, not a desire to control. Prowl wanted to build their relationship in a way that it could become a bond once the war ended, and becoming exclusive was a step in that direction. He loved Jazz, and could easily envision a future for the both of them. If this is what Jazz wanted, then Prowl would try.

“I truly haven’t ever played like that.” Prowl lifted his gaze to Jazz’s. “I have no idea what to do, but if you’re willing to guide and teach me, I’m willing to learn.” He flicked his doorwings in a small shrug-like gesture. “Though perhaps in a few days. I think I need to get used to the idea, and I think I’d like to do a little research on my own.” He gave Jazz a look when he snickered, but asked, “What, exactly, do you like? What would you expect of _me_?”

“I like my collar,” Jazz said. “It’s like the first cue that I get ta give up all that control I have ta maintain all the time on the job. I like bein’ tied up, but sometimes it’s cool ta have ta obey just the order not ta move or touch or somethin’. Blue usually uses the cane ta hit me. Just my back and aft, the backs of my thighs. It hurts, but it doesn’t leave much damage. Ya know Ratch wouldn’t be happy if I was goin’ in for repairs from interfacin’.”

“No, I don’t imagine he would be.”

Jazz chuckled. “Yeah. I can live without that lecture. Like I said, he punishes me for the bad stuff I gotta do. Then sometimes he makes me pleasure him. Sometimes it’s just some good rough facin’. Just depends on what we decide beforehand.”

Prowl nodded. “And is this something Bluestreak enjoys as well, or is it more like a… service he gives you?”

“Oh no. He’s inta it too.”

“Very well.” Prowl nodded again, more to himself this time. “I’m not sure how much pleasure I will take from it, but I am willing to try.” He smiled. “In a few days.”

“Totally, babe. Let it all soak in, do that research ya wanted to.” Jazz pulled, and Prowl leaned forward, still smiling. “I appreciate it, but I want ya ta keep one really important thing in mind.”

“And what is that?” Prowl asked.

“Trust, and open, continuous consent. Ya don’t hafta do this for me. Sayin’ no ain’t gonna change my feelings for ya or change my mind about us bein’ an exclusive deal. I ain’t gonna hold it against ya if ya decide ya don’t wanna do it. Ok?”

Prowl smiled, doorwings dipping as his spark thrummed warmly in its crystal. “I understand.”

~ | ~

Jazz knelt on the floor, his hands cuffed behind his back. Prowl stood over him, just barely visible from the corner of Jazz’s optic. His feet were planted, the crop Jazz had borrowed from Bluestreak held at a threatening angle, but it was still all wrong. Prowl’s doorwings were low and back, a submissive posture Jazz associated with seeking approval. He understood that Prowl was hoping to do well, but beyond the thinnest veneer he wasn’t in control at all. This session was no less awkward or unnatural than the previous two attempts.

Jazz could feel the irritation prickling though his lines, and it was difficult to keep his energy field held in so tight as well. Prowl’s uncertainty and discomfort filled the air between them, and the too-light blows only agitated Jazz more. He clenched his fists, chin tucking down near his chest as the next few strikes flickered against his back.

And what the frag was Prowl saying?

“Confess. You are a… a very bad mech.”

There was another ridiculously light tap of the crop against his aft, and Jazz huffed a laugh, which quickly shifted into a giggle, all irritation evaporating.

“Jazz?” The tip of the crop rested on the floor, Prowl’s shoulders and wings slumping.

“I don’t mean ta laugh _at_ ya, babe, I just don’t think this is gonna work.” Jazz looked up, still smiling.

Prowl sighed, then moved around behind Jazz. The crop was laid gently on the floor, then the cuffs removed. “I’m sorry.”

Jazz reached up and removed the collar, tucking it into his subspace as Prowl put away his cuffs. Jazz picked up the crop as he stood, putting it on the table before going to wrap Prowl up in a hug. “It’s ok.”

“I don’t think I can do this. I know you want me to hit you harder, but I’m afraid I’m going to damage you, and I just _can’t_ say those horrible things to you.” Prowl tucked his face into Jazz’s neck. “I love you. I can’t tell you such lies about yourself.”

Jazz leaned back, hands going to either side of Prowl’s face. “Love ya too, Prowler. Really, it’s ok, babe. I appreciate ya tryin’, and I love that ya can’t hurt me. Ain’t all on you anyways. Not like I’ve ever taught anyone how ta-” He cut off, a sudden idea making him grin.

“What? What are you thinking?” Prowl asked.

“What if we asked Blue ta help teach ya?” Jazz stepped back, hands sliding down Prowl’s arms to take his hands. “He’s got all the toys, he knows what he’s doin’, he knows how ta read me. He has experience explainin’ the headspace. He could show ya the ropes.” He snickered. “Literally and figuratively. Would probably be really hot.” Slag. _Really_ hot. Primus in the fragging Pits, Jazz could have both of them over him.

He reined in the lust, and shoved the mental images away, wanting Prowl to decide for himself, not be influenced by Jazz’s field pulsing need and desire.

Prowl tipped his helm to the side, and Jazz watched his face closely. “That could work.”

“Up ta you. Well, and Bluestreak. I can ask him, but only if ya’re ok with it.”

Nodding, Prowl smiled, his doorwings lifting a bit and his plating loosening as he relaxed. “No, that could really be beneficial.” He tugged Jazz in and kissed him lightly. “I _want_ to do this for you. I just feel like I’m going to hurt you, or push you too far with such harsh words. I can’t bear the idea that I could make you fear me, or that I could do something wrong and lose your trust.

Jazz smiled and wound his arms around Prowl. “Love ya. Love that ya’re willin’ ta do all this slag for me.” He tipped his helm up and captured Prowl’s lips in another warm, soft kiss.

“Mmn…” Prowl stepped back, angling toward his berth without completely breaking contact, and then spoke against Jazz’s lips. “I love you too,” he murmured, “and you do a lot of ‘slag’ for me as well.”

Jazz snickered as they fell onto the berth. Limbs were arranged, and the kisses grew longer and deeper. It wasn’t what they’d set out to do for the night, but it left Jazz just as content as he drifted off into recharge.

~ | ~

Prowl stood outside of Bluestreak’s door next to Jazz, doing his best not to look as nervous as he felt. He was determined to do his best, learn well, and give Jazz what he wanted and needed.

Jazz glanced up as he pressed the call button and smiled, and Prowl felt his spark warm and pick up in pace. He didn’t really expect to _like_ it, but he adored Jazz. He wanted to please him, be everything he needed. He didn’t want to mess up their relationship. He didn’t want to fail -again- and let Jazz down.

The door slid aside with a soft hiss, and Bluestreak smiled brightly. “Hey guys! Welcome, come on in.” He stepped back to make room. “How’s it going?”

“Real good, Blue,” Jazz replied. “Thanks for helpin’ us out.”

“Oh, I don’t mind.” Bluestreak locked the door, then gestured to the sofa. “Prowl, are you ok with just sitting off to the side tonight and watching?”

“Yes, of course.” Prowl touched Jazz’s shoulder as he stepped away, then sat on the sofa with his fingers knotted together in his lap. He tried to ignore the heat in his face and the nervous flutter in his spark. He had never before _watched_ two mechs interface, let alone a- what had Jazz called it? A session such as this was to be.

Bluestreak gave Prowl an encouraging smile, then turned to Jazz. “Are we doing anything besides me showing Prowl the basics?”

“Nah. Thinkin’ it’d be best ta stick ta that tonight.”

“So no interfacing of any kind?” Bluestreak waited while Jazz nodded. “’Kay.” He turned to Prowl, and said, “Communication is really important. No question is stupid, and nothing can be clarified too much.” He gestured Jazz to the middle of the floor. “For Prowl’s sake, tell me what the basics are that you want.”

“I want bound. I want ya ta make it hurt. I need punished.” Jazz’s voice shifted, became… thicker as he spoke. “Make me cry.” His voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “Make me sing.”

Bluestreak walked over to a storage locker, calmly entering the code. Prowl couldn’t see in, but given the way Bluestreak stood there for a moment, he thought he had been deciding which tool to use. Choice obviously made, Bluestreak turned back around, leaving the locker open, and held up the shock stick for Jazz to see. Jazz dipped his chin in agreement.

“Kneel. Keep your panel locked. Give me your collar,” Bluestreak ordered as he crossed back to Jazz. His tone was firm, voice ringing with more confidence than Prowl had ever expected could be possible. Bluestreak had never before seemed this self-assured.

Jazz sank to his knees in obedience even as he reached into his subspace, and then held the collar up to Bluestreak like an offering.

“The submissive isn’t allowed to touch his own collar without his master’s permission, and he _never_ takes it off of himself,” Bluestreak told Prowl.

Prowl watched as the collar was fitted around Jazz’s neck, and nodded. “That is a mistake I made then. He has taken it off the few times we tried, and even put it on once. I’m supposed to do all that?”

“Oh did he now?” The shock stick hummed as Bluestreak activated it.

Jazz’s shoulders hunched, and his lips pressed into a flat line, the corners of his mouth turning down ever so slightly.

“Is that true, Jazz?” Bluestreak asked, his tone chilling despite how conversational and friendly it was.

“Yes, master.”

The shock stick swung down, catching Jazz right in the lateral seam of his torso plating. Electricity danced along the gap, almost drowning out Jazz’s sharp gasp. Prowl winced, but that wasn’t the end of it. Bluestreak moved with deliberate steps around Jazz, delivering shock after shock. First that seam, then the top line of Jazz’s pelvic plating, then dead center on his back. His aft, the other lateral seam. The top of his thigh, his knee, his hip-

Jazz yelped with the a blow to his left shoulder joint, then shouted, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, please!”

Prowl only realized he’d had his respiration stalled when Bluestreak switched off the shock stick and stepped in front of Jazz. Prowl panted, gasping for cooling air, his optics wide, and his lower lip sore from where he had been biting it. His spark was pounding, and every instinct screamed that he step in. He would have too, except that Jazz’s visor was a much deeper blue than usual, and when he spoke, his voice was husky, deep.

“Please?” Bluestreak repeated. The shock stick buzzed back to life. “You’re begging me please when you’re not even following _our_ rules _now_? How the frag do you expect me to believe you’re sorry?”

Prowl flinched back, hands clenching into fists as Bluestreak struck again.

“Well?!”

Jazz’s visor snapped up as his hands were struck. “I’m sorry.”

“Liar,” Bluestreak growled, and dragged sizzling energy right down the center of Jazz’s back.

Jazz arched and cried out again. “I am! I swear.”

“You swear you’re a liar?” _Bzzzpt_ snapped the shock stick. “I already knew that.”

Bluestreak delivered three more sharp cracks of electricity to Jazz’s body in quick succession, then dropped into a crouch in front of him. “Need a hint? I’m not the one you should be apologizing to. I’m not the one that trusted you to teach me what you need. I’m not the one you failed.”

The shock stick crackled between them, and Bluestreak merely stared as Jazz’s optics went wide, then shifted to Prowl with a whimper.

“I am sorry.”

“Are you?” Bluestreak asked.

“Yes, master.”

Bluestreak stood, letting the energy snap and hiss as he swung the shock stick in what appeared to be lazy arcs, but Prowl knew had to be perfectly controlled and choreographed. “I want a precise confession. Tell us what you did wrong.”

Prowl couldn’t tear his optics from Jazz’s, and his respiration stalled again as deep sapphire burned into his spark. _Primus_ , Prowl thought.

“I didn’t remove my visor, master.” Jazz gasped as the shock stick struck him on the aft. “I didn’t offer Prowl my collar.”

The next blow was harder and caught Jazz in the shoulder. “More than that,” Bluestreak said.

Panting, Jazz said, “I didn’t explain the rules so Prowl would know I shouldn’t’a touched my collar without his permission.”

“And?”

Jazz yelped, body jolting at the impact with his hip joint. “I didn’t- I didn’t communicate.”

Prowl opened his mouth to protest. They had spoken at length, but Jazz shook his helm, optics blazing.

“Not enough. Not the right words.”

“Not even close.” Bluestreak struck again. “You set Prowl up to fail.”

Jazz’s face jerked around to stare up at Bluestreak. “No- ah!”

“Liar. You’ve been doing this too long. I trained you too well. You’re an embarrassment,” Bluestreak snarled, punctuating each accusation with a sharp blow. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

Prowl bit his lip again, hands clenched tightly and pressed to his thighs. That _couldn’t_ be true. Jazz wouldn’t do that to him. He just wouldn’t. It was all he could do not to shout the words at Bluestreak as he rained snapping, hissing strike after strike down on Jazz while Jazz shouted and yelped and denied such ill intentions. He begged and pleaded, rocking on his knees until the impossible happened, and tears flowed freely down his face.

Bluestreak finally stopped, the shock stick clicking as it was shut off. Jazz’s soft, keening whines filled the room and drove ice into Prowl’s spark.

“Apologize. And make me believe it,” Bluestreak ordered.

Jazz shuffled around on his knees until he faced Prowl fully, then curled forward until his face nearly touched the floor. “I’m so sorry, Prowl. I was wrong. I did it all wrong, and I hurt ya. I made ya think you were doing it wrong, but it was me. I’m so sorry. Please, _please_ , can ya ever forgive me?”

Prowl stared in complete disbelief. He wanted to argue, say that Jazz didn’t hurt him. He was fine, Primus, please stop crying! Instead, his mouth worked silently as he watched Jazz tremble and shiver, prostrated before him.

Bluestreak only allowed a short beat after the end of Jazz’s apology before asking Prowl, “Do you want to forgive him, or does he need to be disciplined more?”

“N-no. I mean, yes, I forgive him,” Prowl said. “I forgive you, Jazz.”

Bluestreak smiled. “Good. My turn then.”

Prowl gasped out loud as the shock stick came to life once more. He watched, silent, as Bluestreak sought out, and found, every spot on Jazz’s body that would bring a cry or yelp or shout from him. He drove him to scream, to gasp out hitched, breathless sobs. He struck again and again until Jazz rocked on his knees, chin tucked down to his chest, and the keening turned to humming, then became soft, broken singing.

Bluestreak stopped in front of Jazz, and the shock stick was turned off, then used to lift Jazz’s face from under his chin. Jazz blinked up at him, still humming, vents catching on every labored breath, his face glistening wet from tears.

“Have you forgiven yourself yet?” Bluestreak demanded.

Jazz gave as much of a nod as he could with the stick still under his chin. “Yes, master,” he whimpered.

“Good,” Bluestreak _purred_.

Prowl opened his mouth to speak, but Bluestreak caught his optics and gave him the slightest head shake as he walked over to a chair.

Bluestreak sat, gently- almost reverently placing the shock stick on the floor beside the chair. “Come here, Jazz,” he said in an equally gentle voice.

Jazz crawled over on his knees, wedging himself between Bluestreak’s, then laid his helm on a red thigh.

At first Bluestreak said nothing, simply crooning along with Jazz’s soft song and stroking his helm. Jazz’s optics were shut, and little by little he relaxed and calmed.

Prowl stared, and a prickling heat worked its way over his systems. His optics were locked on Bluestreak’s hand, and while, up to that point, he’d been genuinely disturbed and worried for Jazz, now arousal blossomed. Every soft, sweet word Bluestreak uttered, every gentle touch set his own lines alight.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Bluestreak murmured. “Prowl and I know you didn’t do that on purpose. You love him so much. You’d never do something like that, Jazz.”

Prowl bit back a whimper of his own as Jazz nuzzled Bluestreak’s thigh. Lust and need swelled, and it was all he could do to keep his aft on the sofa. Seeing it was incredible, but more than that, Prowl wanted to be where Jazz was. He wanted to be told he was good and worthy. He wanted, with an incredible ache, to lay his helm in Bluestreak’s lap for an affectionate petting. He was suddenly _desperate_ to hear he was cared for, needed, so good…

Time stretched out, and Jazz quieted until Prowl wondered if he had fallen into recharge. He was about to ask when Jazz began to purr, then shift and stretch. Bluestreak purred quietly in return, still petting his helm until Jazz lifted it.

Smiling, Bluestreak asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Jazz said, and lifted his chin.

Bluestreak removed the collar, then rubbed Jazz’s neck before handing the collar back.

Prowl blinked as they stood and Bluestreak led Jazz over the sofa. They both sat, Jazz curling into Prowl’s side, and Bluestreak smiling.

“It looked like you had some questions during the session,” Bluestreak said. “Go ahead and ask anything you want.”

Prowl glanced at Jazz, then back to Bluestreak. “Can I do that?”

Jazz snickered, and Bluestreak chuckled lightly, but Prowl was already shaking his head.

“I mean… That... What just…” Prowl gestured a little helplessly at where Jazz and Bluestreak had been sitting. Words were failing him, guilt was eating at his spark. He wasn’t supposed to want that. He was supposed to be learning how to take care of Jazz, not stealing something special and important from him.

Jazz’s optics went round in surprise, but Bluestreak only tipped his helm to the side and gave Prowl a considering look. “Tonight was pretty intense,” he said. “How about we have a picnic in here tomorrow night with our evening energon. We can talk everything over then. That’ll give you both a chance to settle out tonight, and ya know, think it over and talk about it alone.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Jazz said. “Prowler?”

“Yes, and… thank you, Bluestreak.” Prowl stood, his knees feeling weak and wobbly. Jazz and Bluestreak rose too.

“No problem. Really, no problem at all.”

Prowl was alone in the hallway with Jazz, still feeling dazed, unsure if he’d bid Bluestreak goodnight or not. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Primus, what was wrong with him? He was supposed to be learning to please Jazz, not wanting… this.

Jazz squeezed Prowl’s hand and smiled up at him. “It’s totally ok, babe.” He tugged, leading Prowl to his own room. “Let’s just take Blue’s advice and give it tonight ta settle. I’m feelin’ a bit strung out, and if ya’re good with it, I just wanna snuggle up and recharge.”

Prowl nodded. “I love you,” he said suddenly, spark skipping a pulse and his hand tightening on Jazz’s.

Jazz leaned up to kiss Prowl’s cheek. “Love ya too, Prowl. Don’t worry about anything tonight. We’ll get it all figured out tomorrow.”

~ | ~

Jazz recognized the vibe the moment he and Prowl entered Bluestreak’s quarters. The lighting was a little softer than usual, and some gentle instrumental music was playing just loud enough to be heard. Jazz sank into the sofa, plating loosening from the tension he’d been carrying all day, but Prowl sat stiffly at his side. Doorwings were held up and back at a rigid angle, high over the low back of Bluestreak’s sofa instead of resting on it.

Bluestreak sat in his chair and smiled at them, his own posture easy and relaxed. “I figure we can get right to the discussion first, if that’s ok?”

“Yes, I think that would be best,” Prowl agreed, and Jazz simply nodded along.

“You look like you still have questions, Prowl.”

Prowl, impossibly, tensed even more. “Yes.” He was quiet for a moment, but then said, “Jazz told me that you enjoy your role in these sessions. I am curious as to the motivation.”

Leave it to Prowl to be so formal, Jazz thought, and reached out to take his hand and give it a light squeeze while Bluestreak considered his own response.

“I do enjoy it,” Bluestreak said. “I like the feeling of power and authority, but more than that, I like being in complete control.” He lifted a hand in a slight gesture toward Prowl. “You know what I went through. You know how helpless I was when Praxus fell. I was stuck there, unable to do anything. I couldn’t move, or help, or… anything. I _really_ like being in control now. Pits, part of that is what drove me to become a sniper, but this is sort of a healthier outlet for it than killing mechs, ya know? I don’t enjoy killing, but I am attracted to the control I have in those situations. Dominance play is how I keep myself sane and from slipping into something darker. It wouldn’t be hard for me to do either. I have a lot of hate and anger in me.”

Jazz shivered, though it was only partly in response to the chilling confession. He had never asked Bluestreak why. He wished he had, because knowing just how _much_ control Bluestreak was exerting was frelling _hot_.

Prowl nodded his understanding. “That… makes sense.”

“Does it?” Bluestreak asked.

“Yes.”

Bluestreak smiled a little. “You look like you might need some help. How about… What do you hope to get from any sessions between us? What’s _your_ motivation?”

Jazz grinned as a pink glow bloomed on Prowl’s cheeks.

“I’m in control all the time. I have all of the Autobots to look after. All plans go through me. I’m constantly weighing the outcome against the sparks I send out to risk their lives. I have to maintain order at all times. I have to remain stoic and force our wonderful, idealist leader to face hard facts and even act against his beliefs for the greater good. _I_ have to say what the greater good is. Then I have mechs like Cliffjumper and Sideswipe, and even Ratchet, not to mention Ironhide and Red Alert. I have this reputation, and I don’t mind it, Pits, I cultivated it, but I have to maintain it. I have to be careful about what jokes I smile at because I can’t be seen as approving certain behaviors,” Prowl said, speaking faster and faster before suddenly stopping.

Prowl cycled his vents, optics shutting for a moment. Jazz squeezed his hand again, reaching out to comfort with his field too. When Prowl continued, his voice was softer. “I want what I saw Jazz receiving at the end of the evening yesterday.” He opened his optics and looked directly at Bluestreak, expression almost daring a debate. “It would be nice, I think, not to be in control. Just for a little while. To be the one told he’s good and safe and…” Prowl shrugged, momentary confidence draining and his doorwings sinking a little, his face growing hotter. “It was rather arousing to see, and I think I might enjoy being in such a position.”

“Would you want your own sessions, or to share with Jazz?” Bluestreak asked.

“With Jazz,” Prowl answered, hand tightening on Jazz’s as he glanced at him, then back to Bluestreak. “I would just prefer not to have any of the berating directed at me.”

“Pet,” Bluestreak said with a little nod to himself. “I could do that. Interfacing?”

Prowl’s doorwings fluttered, face going downright hot pink and his optics darkening. “Maybe. Yes. Sometimes.” He huffed a breath, and squared his shoulders. “Can that be decided during the session?”

“Yeah, totally,” Bluestreak said. “Before or during. The only thing is that if you say no interfacing _before_ we start, then I’m going to maintain that through the session. If we start with a yes or a maybe, then it’s at mutual discretion, but when you’re already in, you can’t change a no to a yes. I’m not comfortable with that, because I can’t be completely sure of your consent. A yes can _always_ become a no, for any of us, but a no can’t become a yes for me.”

“That is reasonable,” Prowl said.

Jazz flashed a bright smile as Bluestreak’s gaze landed on him.

“What do you think about all of this, Jazz?” Bluestreak asked. “It’s got to work for all of us. Are you ok with it, with what Prowl wants?”

“Pits, _yes_!” Jazz snickered, bouncing just a little in his seat. “I think it’s flippin’ hot, so yes please.”

“Jazz,” Prowl sighed, but he was smiling now too.

Bluestreak snickered, and asked, “Is there anything else?”

“Yeah,” Jazz said. “What about you? Ya sure ya’re good with all this too?”

“Oh, yeah. I’d have declined before even inviting you over tonight if I wasn’t willing and interested.” Bluestreak stood and walked to a small cupboard door, then returned with three cubes of energon. He handed a cube each to Jazz and Prowl, then plopped back into his seat.

“Oh! Did you hear that Wheeljack and Perceptor are working on making controllers that’ll fit our hands for that new game system?” Bluestreak asked in a complete non sequitur, then sipped at his energon. “I don’t know how Jack convinced them to give him the schematics, but he’s pretty sure that by the time the console hits the stores, they’ll have built enough controllers to go around.”

“Sweet!” Jazz said, noting that Prowl’s doorwings were resting on the back of the sofa, his plating finally loosening, and his face no longer blazing. “They’re supposed ta have that shippin’ out with some new racin’ game.”

“I think I heard that too. What games do you like, Prowl?” Bluestreak asked.

“Tetris,” Prowl smiled, then let it shift to a wry grin. “Logic and puzzles and strategy games tend to be my favorites.”

Bluestreak and Jazz chuckled, and Jazz finished off his energon as they chatted about simple and innocuous things for a while longer. They would need to pick a date still, but he wouldn’t bring that up tonight.

~ | ~

“Hi, guys!” Bluestreak said, and let Jazz and Prowl into his quarters. He took them both in at a glance, smiling at how Jazz practically vibrated in anticipation. Prowl, as expected, seemed more nervous than anything else.

Once the door was locked Bluestreak asked, “Straight to it? Or do either of you need some time?”

“Straight to it,” Jazz laughed, bouncing a little.

Prowl chuckled. “I am… nervous, but ready.”

Bluestreak gave Prowl a smile and dipped his chin in a nod, but before he could say anything, Prowl continued.

“We were discussing the possibility of bondage, some punishment for Jazz, and the,” Prowl’s face flamed bright pink, “petting and snuggling for both of us.”

“What about interfacing?” Bluestreak asked.

“Yes,” Prowl replied, and Jazz nodded agreement. “In whichever… configuration works.”

“Ok.” Bluestreak gave it a moment, but neither of them said anything else, so he decided to begin. “Kneel.” He pointed at the floor in front of him.

Jazz all but threw himself at the floor, visor retracting, but Prowl moved with more grace. He sank down in front of Bluestreak, doorwings lowered submissively, helm down, fingers laced on his thighs. Prowl looked up a little when Jazz presented his collar, doors twitching, then sinking even lower.

Bluestreak took Jazz’s collar and clasped it around his neck, then moved to stand in front of Prowl. “And for my new pet,” he said, leaving the words hang as he reaching into his subspace.

Prowl peered up from under the ridge of his helm, then tipped his head up more, optics growing wide when he spotted his collar. Where Jazz’s was thick and durable, Prowl’s was thin and lightly crafted. Bluestreak owed Wheeljack big for it. The clasp was strong, but still looked as delicate as the small, overlapping plates that made up the collar. The soft lighting of his quarters gleamed off the polished platinum and blue topaz, the links that held it together chiming lightly as the collar was moved.

Bluestreak gave Prowl a moment to admire it, then locked it around his neck. Prowl’s hands came up to touch, fingers ghosting over the surface.

“Does it fit?”

“Yes,” Prowl replied, then hurried to add, “master. Yes, master.”

Bluestreak smiled, stroking Prowl’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Stay here, sweetling.” He turned to Jazz, reaching into his subspace again for the magnacuffs, then locked Jazz’s hands behind his back. “Don’t move,” he ordered, tone more stern, then crossed his room to the storage locker.

Returning, Bluestreak showed Prowl the bright blue cording. “This is going to look so pretty against your black and white plating. Put your hands behind your back.”

Prowl shivered all the way out to the tips of his doorwings, optics bright and respiration already panting. Bluestreak purred softly, easing the rope around Prowl’s wrists, up over the hinges of his doorwings, then brought it back down in a series of decorative half hitches. He left the quick-release line dangling, then drew the lines over Prowl’s shoulders.

He could hear Jazz’s vents cycling fast and much louder than usual, and dared a quick, careful glance, but Jazz was behaving. “You’re being so good,” Bluestreak crooned to Prowl, petting his helm before looping the cord around his neck. He was sure to make the knots in a way that Prowl couldn’t force it tight enough to cut off the energon flow to his processors even if he struggled, then worked his way down. Bluestreak brushed his fingers along transformation seams, ghosted over the glass of headlights, and very deliberately teased the hot cover to Prowl’s interface array as he pushed the line between his legs. By the time Bluestreak finished the last hitch, Prowl was gasping, forced into a slightly bowed position, but still able to lift his helm.

“So pretty. Primus, Prowl, do you even know how beautiful you are?”

Blazing sapphire optics stared up at Bluestreak, and he gave one last stroke to Prowl’s helm and face, then stepped away and faced Jazz.

Jazz rocked on his knees, humming softly, his own optics bright and a darker blue than usual.

“And you,” Bluestreak said. “You’re being rather well-behaved tonight, sitting so quietly and patiently.” He tapped his lips with a fingertip, staring down at Jazz for a moment. “I think you deserve a reward instead of a punishment. What do you think?”

Jazz moaned, rocking a little farther forward than before. “That my master is too good to me,” he whimpered, glancing over at Prowl, then back to Bluestreak.

“Hmm…” Bluestreak strode to his chair and dragged it back over, placing it beside Prowl. He let his panel retract, then sat in the chair, legs spread wide and valve exposed. One hand went to Prowl’s helm, his thumb gently tracing the chevron, the other crooked a finger at Jazz.

Prowl keened, his face pushing against the outside of Bluestreak’s thigh, while Jazz crawled forward and buried his face in Bluestreak’s array.

Jazz knew exactly what Bluestreak liked and employed every last one of his considerable variety of tricks. Bluestreak lifted his hips into the slick thrust of Jazz’s tongue, his own vents picking up as the charge danced over his sensornet. Jazz clearly didn’t plan to draw this out tonight, and Bluestreak was fine with that, far more concerned with Prowl than his own pleasure. Jazz hummed, the vibration working up into Bluestreak’s valve, and Bluestreak didn’t bother to resist as the pleasure crested. His hand stilled on Prowl’s helm, the other gripping the arm of his chair as his body went rigid and shook in release.

Bluestreak drew in a deep breath, then exhaled, slumping into the chair as the hard edge of bliss softened to a warm glow. Beside him, Prowl whimpered, and Bluestreak, tipped his face up with a gentle touch under his chin.

Tears slipped down Prowl’s face from dark cobalt optics, his expression filled with helpless lust. Bluestreak pushed at Jazz’s helm, sliding from the chair to kneel in front of Prowl. “You look so beautiful, Prowl,” he murmured, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “Are you ready to be untied?”

Prowl keened, optics squeezing shut and more tears seeping out. He rocked on his knees, vents hitching.

“Prowl?” There was no answer, so Bluestreak purred and leaned in to kiss Prowl’s cheek. “It’s ok. You’re doing so good. I’m going to untie you now, ok?” He reached behind Prowl, tugging the quick release, and unravelling the cord. He slid his hands over Prowl, not breaking contact, and shifted to he could reach behind him and free his hands.

“There,” Bluestreak said, slowly drawing Prowl’s hands forward. “Jazz, come give Prowl some snuggles,” he ordered, tone soft as he massaged Prowl’s upper arms to help ground him.

Jazz scooted close on his knees, leaning in to nuzzle the side of Prowl’s helm. Bluestreak reached over and unlocked the cuffs so they could both tend to Prowl.

“You’re safe here, Prowl,” Bluestreak said. “I want you to focus on your respiration. Nice and slow. Jazz and I have you. You’re doing so good.”

Prowl shook between them, panting and gasping, arching into every touch. Jazz looked up at Bluestreak, hand very deliberately sliding down Prowl’s belly, seeking permission. Bluestreak gave him a slight nod, and only an instant later Prowl’s panel snapped open with a loud _click_. He moaned, twisting to clutch at Jazz. Bluestreak stopped him, and motioned Jazz behind Prowl with a slight lift of his chin.

Jazz moved immediately, panel retracting and spike extending, ready and leaking already.

Prowl cried out, hands slapping down on Bluestreak’s thighs and holding tight when Jazz thrust home. He bowed forward, doorwings flaring as he pressed his forehelm to Bluestreak’s lap. Bluestreak petted his helm and rubbed his back between the door hinges. He was tempted to have Jazz slow down and ease up, but then Prowl’s doorwings snapped into a sharp V, and a high, wavering cry filled the room. Jazz bit out a curse, thrust deep, and held there, his own helm thrown back, face a rictus of ecstasy.

Bluestreak reached for Jazz’s helm too, as he collapsed over Prowl’s back, purring and petting them both. “Good. My good pets.”

He let them rest until their vents cycled evenly, then nudged Jazz. “Go get some cloths so we can clean Prowl up.”

“Yes, master.”

Prowl was compliant, blinking sleepily, but his optics clearing as Bluestreak and Jazz cleaned him up. While Jazz saw to himself, Bluestreak cupped Prowl’s face in his hands and smiled. “You did great. I’m going to take off your collar now, ok?”

“Yes, master,” Prowl whispered, face heating and optics dropping.

Bluestreak pecked a kiss to Prowl’s nose, then unclasped the collar, handing it to Prowl. “This is yours now, it’s your job to take care of it.”

“Yes, master.”

“It’s off now, Prowl. I’m just Bluestreak again.”

Prowl nodded, so Bluestreak let him go to process for a moment, and turned to Jazz. Once his collar was off, he reached for Prowl, hugging him tight and whispering something in Prowl’s audial too softly for Bluestreak to hear.

Bluestreak stood to fetch some energon, and sat on the floor in front of Jazz and Prowl. “How are you both doing?”

“Great!” Jazz chirped, accepting the cube with a happy, “Thanks!”

“Tired, but good,” Prowl said, offering a sleepy smile.

“Good. Prowl, you went nonverbal, so before we do this again, I’d like you to figure out a gesture, or some sort of sign you can give that means stop, ok?” Bluestreak eyed him, watching the blush. “It’s ok, ya know? But if you are the sort that’s going to go silent, then we’ve got to have another way to keep you safe and stop if it gets to be too much. _Was_ any of that too much tonight?”

“No,” Prowl answered immediately. “It was intense, but I enjoyed it. I would like to do it again. If you are willing?”

And Primus, but Bluestreak could get used to that adorable blush. “I’m good with seeing where this goes.”

Jazz whooped, then leaned in to give Prowl a kiss. “Not exactly what I’d been imaginin’, but I can’t help but think this might just be better. You were so hot, babe.” He nipped at Prowl’s lip, laughing as his face was playfully pushed away.

“Maybe I will have you teach me to beat him,” Prowl said.


End file.
